


accidental adoration

by ricepaperboi



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Undercover Missions, expected shameless smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 21:10:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19093198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ricepaperboi/pseuds/ricepaperboi
Summary: Sam gives an incredulous sigh. “You want Barnes and me to spend god knows how long grilling hot dogs in a gated community with a kid we’ve never met, playing family while we collect surveillance on a drug trafficker and arms dealer."





	accidental adoration

The past had been a warm buzz of hands and lips, a comfortable alignment of bodies, kisses pressed to all the right places. It had been liquor-laced, slightly messy, and pleasantly surprising. It had been fun. But that was then and this is now. The present is shit and hindsight is a pain in the ass. 

Bucky lays in the tangle of sheets that are familiar yet not his, that smell familiar yet different like settling in to a different room of the same house. The heavy taste of vodka stays stuck beneath his tongue, and the back of his throat feels like sandpaper. And all that would have been easy to deal with had he waken up anywhere else, had anyone else’s bed smelled of sex and hard liquor. Bucky could have extracted himself with silence and not given it a second thought. Except his nose is pressed to the back of Sam’s neck, arm draped around Sam’s waist, wrapped up in Sam’s sheets. He is torn between giving in to horizontal comfort and going back to sleep or making an undignified retreat. However fun last night was, Bucky does not know how willing Sam is to share his bed in the painfully sobering light of day. 

Sam’s breathing changes slightly. His body stiffens for the briefest of seconds before he relaxes under the weight of the prosthetic arm. It takes several more seconds before he breathes Bucky’s name into the early morning air. 

A beat. “I’m awake.” Bucky slowly withdraws his arm, feeling Sam’s palm ghost over his forearm. Sam rolls and suddenly they are nose to nose and Sam is staring at him like he is trying to piece together a puzzle. “Should I...I should go.” 

As Bucky’s stomach is twisting itself into knots, Sam sits up slowly and stretches. He rubs sleep from his eyes and takes a moment to stare out the bedroom window. Ears begin to warm. Bucky sits up to reach for jeans draped over the foot of the bed. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, pulling on jeans and standing in fluid motion.

“I, uh, I’ll go then,” he murmurs. His gaze is fixed on the floor and a blush begins to bloom across his face. 

“Bucky, wait.” 

“No, it’s fine...I’m fine. We’ll just...I’ll see you later--at work. I’ll see you at work.”

“Sit. Now.” Sam waits until Bucky takes a tentative seat at the corner of the bed. He rubs his temple gingerly, but turns to Bucky with a tired smile. “Are you good?” 

Bucky takes a breath before he meets Sam’s eye. “I’m good, Sam. Are you?”

Sam holds his head in his hands and gives Bucky a wry smile. “Hangover aside, I’m great. But, uh, you’re wearing my pants.”

Bucky looks down at the jeans sitting low on his hips. “Right. I--”

Phones go off simultaneously. They exchange glances of uncertainty before they scramble to find their phones in the haphazard mess of clothes and sheets. Sam finds them first, tossing Bucky his before answering. Bucky darts into the next room to take his call. 

“Hey,” Steve says from the other end of the line. “Fury wants you and Sam here ten minutes ago.”

Bucky gets a sinking feeling in his stomach. “Sam and I? Why?” 

“Don’t know, but I heard a surveillance case just got brought in from either NSA or Homeland--high priority. I didn’t get a chance to find out, Fury’s got me on another assignment. I fly out before I’ll see you.”

“Shame. You’ll miss the party.” Bucky swallows hard, stilling tasting sex and vodka. “Try not to do anything too reckless.”

A laugh. “Take care of yourselves.” 

When Bucky reenters the bedroom, Sam is sitting at the edge of the bed. He looks over his shoulder at Bucky and gives a quiet smile. “You too, huh?”

“Looks like we’re up. I’ll, uh, see you there?” 

Sam gives a quiet snort. “Or we can ride in together. Listen, last night was great but it doesn’t have to change anything. We don’t even have to talk about it. We’re still friends. Right?” 

“Yeah,” Bucky replies automatically, head nodding and heart falling. “Yeah, we’re still friends.” 

“Good. We’ll grab something on the way.” Sam stands, unashamed of his current state of undress or perhaps more preoccupied with a raging hangover. He heads to the bathroom. “Feel free to borrow some clothes. I wouldn’t wear those jeans though. They smell like vodka.”

Ten minutes and a military shower later, Sam is sitting in the passenger seat with his feet up on the dash and chowing down on a fast food burger, grease seeping through the wrapping. 

“I don’t know how you can eat that,” Bucky says with a grimace. He downs half his water bottle in one go before digging into the bag for a handful of fries. 

“Deep fried and greasy is the perfect cure for a hangover,” Sam replies around a mouthful of burger. “What do you think Fury wants us for?” 

Bucky pops an ibuprofen and downs the other half his bottle. “Don’t know. Maybe we’re getting reprimanded.” 

“For last night?”

“Don’t know.”

“You really think he’d listen in?”

Bucky shrugs then flashes a grin as he looks over at Sam. “Honestly, wouldn’t you?” He laughs at the fry Sam tosses at him.

~

Boot heels echo off white walls and waxed granite floors. Natasha strides toward them with a smirk on her lips. “It’s about time you two showed up.”

“Mercy,” Sam groans as he stares over the top of his sunglasses. “It’s a chore just standing upright.” 

“Told you not to try and keep up with Barnes and Rogers,” she says with a hint of a laugh.

“He was good until we hit the eighth round then it was seltzer water and fries from there.” Bucky sees her take in his borrowed clothes and hastily pulled back hair and ears begin to warm again. “Any idea what Fury wants us for?”

Natasha shrugs. “Long term project. It’s easy.” She jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “Better get going. You’re off as soon as you’re briefed.” 

“You’re lucky I don’t have a dog,” Sam calls after her as she pats his shoulder on her way by. “Or a cat.” 

“Or a life,” Bucky adds. He guides Sam towards Fury's office. “Come on.”

~

Sam flips through the manila envelope with a look of barely contained disapproval. 

“I take it you’re not pleased,” Fury says indifferently as he leans back in his chair, fingers steepled. He gives the sense that his attention is not wholly in the room and that several trains of thought are vying for attention in that moment. “Just by what exactly?”

Bucky had sat through the ten minute briefing and heard all the same information. He looks at Sam, heart hammering against his chest because he too wanted to know just what about this mission so displeased to the airman.

“First of all, where did you find this kid--and I stress kid,” Sam says with a note of anger. “He can’t even drive yet and you want to send him out in the field?”

“Oh," Bucky thinks to himself, "children and missions don’t mix."

“His name is Miles,” Fury replies, “and he has abilities that have already been battle tested, but that’s not why I’m placing him with you. It’s a surveillance mission.” Eye goes to Bucky. “I’ll repeat myself: no weapons, no firefights. You get new names, new backgrounds, and a house with view a of your target.”

“Where are his parents?” Sam continues.

“Miles is a ward of the state. Technically.” 

“Technically?” 

“He’s a superhuman child. He doesn’t exist in state files.”

“So you could bottle him up anytime you wanted,” Bucky murmurs under his breath.

“He’s under SHIELD protection and surveillance for as long as he wants.” Fury turns his eye on Bucky with a stare that makes the assassin want to sink into the floor. “He isn’t here against his will but while he is here he accompanies on lower level missions and gets the same self defense training as any agent.”

Bucky breathes a curse. “So we chaperone until you find somewhere to stick the kid. Sir, that’s not a mission, that’s babysitting.”

“Not exactly how I would put it,” Fury muses.

Sam gives an incredulous sigh. “You want Barnes and me to spend god knows how long grilling hot dogs in a gated community with a kid we’ve never met, playing family while we collect surveillance on a drug trafficker and arms dealer," he presses. "Neither of us are trained for this."

“Why the kid?” Bucky interjects. “Can’t we do this without him?” 

“Your target, Ferrand, has a daughter the same age as Miles. He’ll attend the same school and give you an in if and when it’s time to plant the bugs.”

“All due respect, Sir, we don’t need a kid to do our jobs.”

“I should hope to hell not, but he’ll accompany you all the same.”

“This...this isn’t a SHIELD mission is it?” 

Fury gives a slight smile as he stares at the soldier. “No, it is not.” He stands and walks around the desk to lean against it, arms folded over his chest and giving him a firm stare. “We’re playing nice with Homeland on this one. I promised my best to deliver, and it turns out it’s the perfect chance to build your resumes. I want this wrapped up as quickly as possible, but no mistakes. No one but Hill and the Homeland liaisons will know you’re in the field. Hill will apply her skills as your handler. Homeland is there to bust your balls. As soon as there is visual confirmation of Ferrand acquiring shipments or laundered money then you’ll be extracted. Until then enjoy a happy union and don’t forget your son on the way out.” 

Bucky follows Sam out the door, waiting until he hears sounds of bolts locking into place. 

Sam turns sharply on his heel. “You don’t find it strange that we’re taking a kid into a mission?” 

“No.”

“No?”

“I trust Fury. He trusts me to make sure nothing happens the two of you. We do this right and the target doesn’t get within ten feet of the kid.” Bucky gives Sam a nudge. “Don’t look so worried. It’ll be over by the end of the week.”

“Or we’ll be polo-wearing suburbian dads until our pensions come through.”

“I think our cells would shrivel and die first.” Bucky jerks his thumb opposite end of the hall. “I have to get fitted for a sleeve. You find the kid and I’ll meet you at the dock.” 

A quick trip down the the tech department and Bucky is fitted with a synth skin overlay covering up past his shoulder and over the scar tissue until it is a seamless transition from skin to tech. Bucky keeps his hand tucked in the pocket of borrowed jeans, unnerved by the sight of skin where he knew metal should be. 

The docking bay was simply another name for what Sam like to call SHIELD’s hot wheels collection. It held security vehicles, tanks, and even a helicopter along with hundreds of different makes and models of cars for agents to use for less conspicuous trips. Bucky scans the lower level, going over the black and heavily tinted SUVs. A sharp whistle echoes around the garage and cuts through the sounds of mechanics completing their latest run of checks. Bucky’s eyes go up to find Sam leaning over the railing of the third floor parking level, waving to grab his attention. Bucky waves back and goes to meet him. 

Sam is standing before a red sedan with two packets resting on the hood. He looks up as Bucky draws close and hands him one of them. Inside the plastic wrapping is a manila folder with a marriage and birth certificate, a brown patent leather wallet, and a pair of tortoise shelled glasses all things to help complete his new identity. 

“Wedding band and ID are in the wallet.” Sam hands him a packet of paperwork as thick as his hand. “These are yours. Dispatch wants you to sign before we head out.” 

“Where’s the kid?” 

“Went to grab a snack out the vending machine. You go ahead and take the paperwork down. I’ll wait here for you guys.” 

Bucky takes his packet of NSD forms and statements of release to scribble hasty signatures on his way back down the elevator. As soon as the door opens, Bucky feels the hair rise on the back of his neck and out of instinct more than anything else his hand reaches out. What had, in his peripheral vision, seemed like empty space gives way and he is holding a handful of jacket. 

“Heyheyhey,” a quiet voice cries out. 

As soon as he realizes he had grabbed hold of a child, Bucky’s hand jerks back as if it had been burned. “Miles?” he hazards a guess.

“How did you do that?” The boy ruefully straightens out the collar of his jacket. He dusts his hand off on the seat of his pants before holding it out. “You must be Mr. Barnes--”

Bucky shakes it quickly and with uncertainty. “Please, don’t call me Mr.” 

“Do you prefer Dad or Daddy?” 

“I walked into that one.” 

“Mr. Wilson told me to call him ‘pops’ for the mission. Have you two ever done anything like this? Are we really going to be living together? Do I really have to go to school? Are these grades reflected in my GPA? This won’t affect my chances at a scholarship, will it?” 

A breath. “Sam is old that’s why. No, we’ve never done this. Yes, we’re all living in the same space. Yes and I don’t know.” Bucky flicks through his packet and makes sure he has signed them all for good before various departments have a chance to track him down. “If you have any more questions then you can walk with me. If not, Sam is waiting with the car.”

Miles walks him to drop off paperwork then back onto the elevator where he works his way slowly through the last of the cheese puffs. 

“How many missions have you done?” 

Bucky looks at him carefully, painfully aware that he cannot remember the last time he held a conversation this long with anyone incapable of legally purchasing a drink. “For SHIELD? Fifty-three. How many missions have you done?”

Miles shrugs. “For SHIELD? None. This is the first time I’ve been outside the safehouse since they brought me on.” 

“Listen,” Bucky stares at the kid with his headphones hanging around his neck and the laces of his sneakers tucked into the shoe, “that disappearing trick you’ve got is a good thing, but don’t you dare think about using your powers on a surveillance mission. You’re just a normal kid going to school so avoid making contact with target. ” 

Miles looks like he is about to say something glib but thinks better of it. He nods once. 

~

“We’re on SHIELD’s dime and time,” Sam says as he rolls his window down. Gold wedding band catches an evening light. “I say we order in.”

“I’m in,” Bucky replies. He is speeding down the highway, sunglasses used as a makeshift headband to keep his hair from whipping into his eyes. He checks the rear view mirror to find Miles in the backseat, tapping away on his phone. “Hey, kid, look alive. We’re here.” 

Bucky drives up to the immaculate brick laid driveway leading up to a luxury house that Bucky’s wallet feels queasy just looking at. They stand in the doorway looking around at an open floor plan devoid of furniture and echoing in its silence. 

“I think this is going to be a great new start for all of us,” Bucky drawls sarcastically. 

Sam tries not to roll his eyes. “The van’s coming with all the furniture in the morning. For now, we’ll set up the air mattress and see what we’ve got equipment-wise. I want a working perimeter security before it gets too dark.”

Bucky nods once. “I’ll grab the gear out the truck, set up the spikes, and see what else I can spot out there that we can use. We should set up a scope, but I want my rifle to cover the back entrance.” 

“No weapons,” Sam says with an exasperated sigh. “It was literally the second sentence out of Fury’s mouth.”

“Oh, please. You’re telling me you didn’t bring anything at all?” 

Sam digs in his pocket and comes out with a sheathed fixed blade Gerber knife and his wallet. He hands the wallet to Miles. “Go pick out a room and find some place for us to order in.”

Bucky gaze goes to watch Miles shuffle his way up the stairs, headphones vibrating with music then he turns back to Sam. 

“Are you that angry I brought my weapon?” 

“Hell no. I just wish you didn’t bring something quite so big as the rifle.” Sam hands the knife to Bucky. “I found it between the couch cushions. This doesn’t have to get weird, Bucky. When everything comes in tomorrow we can take separate rooms.” 

“Ok, Sam.” He taps the sheathed blade against the synth covered metal palm absentmindedly as he gives a tight smile. He hands the blade to Sam. “You should hang on to this for now. I’m...I’m going to set up the perimeter. I’ll trip it in 20. Let me know how it looks on your comms.”

Sam nods once. 

It does not take long for them to get the basic security online. Soon they are leaning against the kitchen island around a few open boxes of pizza and breadsticks. Sam and Bucky watch in some sort of fascination as Miles picks all the pepperoni off his slices, folds it and shoves as much as he can in his mouth. 

“There is an entire box of cheese, an entire pizza without these things,” Bucky says as he picks pepperoni from the edge of Miles plate. He pops it into his mouth. 

“Yeah, but you can’t get pepperoni flavoring without the pepperoni.” Miles tilts his head back and catches the grease dripping from his pizza in his open mouth. 

Sam grimaces. “I think my arteries just protested. Alright, finish up. You’ve got school in the morning. Uniform is in your go  
bag.”

“We just moved,” Miles exclaims incredulously. “Can’t I have a day to get rested?” 

Sam shakes his head. “We have to meet with Homeland agents. The less involved you are with the agencies, the better. But I’m not leaving you alone until we can get some more security.”

“You remember I can take care of myself, right?”

“There’s a law that says you need a chaperone on a plane. You’re definitely not staying alone with an arms dealer across the street.”

“I’ll take him.” Bucky balls up his napkin and tosses it onto his plastic plate. “Homeland hates me anyway. Miles and I can take a lay of the land and check off some high traffic areas. We’ll even go grocery shopping.” 

A beat. “Fine. I’ll make you a list or we’ll end up with nothing but pizza skins and orange juice.” 

~

By the time everything had been set up, Miles is spread out on his air mattress, windows wide open and feet hanging off the edge of the bed. He snores lightly with his phone playing some sort of soft jams beside his head. Bucky watches from  
across the hall as Sam checks in on the kid then moves to close the door. 

In a short span of time, the master bedroom had become the centerpoint for their surveillance mission. Bucky had claimed the room with a better vantage point to both the targets home and the side of the house. Various parts are connected between two laptops, wires snaking out along the hardwood floor to connect to other pieces of tech. 

“I’ll have everything connected and fully operational by morning,” Bucky says. “You get some sleep. God knows the agents will bore you to death tomorrow. The room next to Miles has a decent view of the back yard. I want a motion camera on that back gate though. You should req one from the tech at SHIELD, they like you better.” 

Sam takes a seat beneath the window. He hooks his watch up to one of the laptops and watches as the info synches up. He stares at the little screens of information that continuously appear and disappears as more relevant information comes up. “I’ll put it in in the morning.” A beat. “You know when I said we can take separate rooms that didn’t mean...it doesn’t-”

Bucky take the battery from his phone and waits for Sam to do the same. “Now it’s just the two of us.”

“Bucky, last night made me think differently of you.”

“We share a bed for a week in France now you’re too nervous to share a room because we fuck.” Bucky jokes halfheartedly. “I’ll take the street view. I sleep less so I can keep eyes on the target. But if you want this room then-” 

“I don't care about the room. I’m not nervous. And to be fair, we don’t know what would have happened in France if that bullet hadn’t come through our window.” Sam takes a breath. He stands to quietly close the door then takes a seat a few feet from Bucky. “Listen, last night...I’m not upset by it, but this - all of this, is a lot. And I’m not completely clear on all details of all the fuckery we got up to, but what I remember it was intense. I need a minute to process that. But I didn’t...I didn’t ask you about it. What do you have to say about it? Do you _want_ to say anything about it? About any of this?” 

“What do you want me to say, Sam? We’re here on a job and we’re going to do it. We’re still friends just like you wanted. I still think you suck at pool, darts, beer pong, and generally anything fun.” Bucky’s gaze drops for a moment then he drags it back up to look at Sam. “Between the war and Hydra, I’ve fucked a spectrum of bad choices, and you’re the first one that's looked at me like I’m a person. So I can’t say it’s not nothing. But I get it. Knowing your coworkers probably listened to you have drunken sex with your other coworker isn’t exactly an experience most want to relive.”

“At least we know they’re not listening now.” 

Bucky looks at him carefully. “We’re not drunk now either.”

The corner of Sam’s turns up in a smirk. “I’m not against revisiting the idea of casual sex.”

"Neither am I." 

"But right now-"

“It would complicate things?” 

“We can’t complicate things. Not with Miles around. Keep him away from Ferrand, get an airtight case for Homeland and we can get out of here.” 

“I know I’m not your first choice for this kind of mission, but I’ve got your back.”

“I know you do, Bucky.” Sam gives him a small smile. “That’s why I always pick you first.”


End file.
